The Thief's Gamble

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Camarl was backing slowly along the stern rail, dagger held before him, half bent in a fighting crouch, one hand reaching backwards to check his position, eyes fixed on some unseen threat. He darted forward, then back, leaping to one side to avoid an imaginary thrust. Flinching, he clapped a hand to his shoulder, body angling to protect the injury his mind was seeing, arm hanging uselessly by his side, blade falling from numb fingers. Moving backwards once more, he suddenly ripped off his green cape and dived over the rail, plunging into the busy waters of the harbour. Casuel saw his head reappear briefly but realised with consternation that the young noble's attempts at swimming were failing, the skills of his body foiled by his mind's conviction that his arm was useless.

  Several more white gouts of foam in the dull green water of the harbour signalled the fates of men falling from the rigging. The booms and canvases of the ocean ship swung wildly to and fro, flailing as if they were caught in some manic whirlwind while the gaily coloured sails of the little fishing boats hung gently flapping in the light breezes. Ropes lashed out at impossible angles to tangle around legs and arms, tools and spars rose from the deck to stab and club unprotected heads. A water cask pulled itself from its rack and bowled down on a couple of lads cowering by the deckhouse, crushing them mercilessly. All the while, the everyday business of the port hummed merrily around the carnage, unseeing, unheeding.

  'Stuff me!'

  Casuel managed to lift his heavy head to see Otrick staring down with a expression of mingled horror and wrath. He raised a blood-stained hand to point to the crowded quayside.

  'Fair heads.' He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

  Otrick leaned forward, eyes narrowing. 'I'll have the bastards.'

  Women waiting their turn to pick over the baskets of blue-grey shells began to look around as fingers of wind plucked at their scarves and shawls. A couple of fishermen glanced up at the clear blue sky with puzzled expressions. Gusts of air snatched at skirts and cloaks and the press of the crowd began to loosen and spread out. Water began to seep across the quayside, exclamations rising as women cursed suddenly damp stockings and looked to see who could be so carelessly discarding slops, whether garbage had choked one of the sloping drains that ran across the quay. Several stumbled, cobbles unaccountably loosened, rolling underfoot. One nameless figure slipped and fell, a circle of confusion rippling outwards as someone else tripped over her, basket rolling round to catch another unwary victim. The cheerful mood of the morning began to waver as people looked round, puzzled and disconcerted.

  'Right.' Otrick cracked his knuckles and bright blue fire crackled in his eyes as they glinted in the sunlight. The fair-haired men had almost reached the ocean ship but the growing disquiet among the quayside crowd was slowing them, although still no one seemed to see the foreigners, surely unmissable with pale heads shining above their stark black livery, silver studs dull with sea salt. A sudden, smacking wave wrenched a clutch of the little crab boats away from the dock, ropes snapping, the waiting townsfolk recoiling from the spray and leaving the black-clad men exposed. Water bubbled up around their feet, foam seething through the cobbles. Cracks opened up in the dock as their boots came down, catching their iron-shod heels. The men staggered, buffeted as if by a winter gale, when women just strides away could move without hindrance. Cries of alarm and annoyance from the people rose above the slapping of the water and the cries of the gulls. A dark cloud boiled up from nowhere and hid the sun.

  'Just knock them down, I don't want anything too dramatic.' Planir appeared with Allin at his heels and raised a hand as Otrick gathered sparkling blue light around his fingers. 'We don't want to start a riot and I don't want too much to have to explain to Messire! This is bad enough as it is.'

  The old wizard snorted with disapproval but the blackness melted away and the fair-haired men simply dropped to the cobbles as if they'd been clubbed. Shouts of consternation rose as the fishwives and sailors suddenly noticed the interlopers; some began forcing a path away, others moved closer then hesitated to approach, gesturing with wondering hands.

  'The ship!' Allin pointed a trembling finger.

  The chaos on the vessel showed no signs of abating; knots of terrified men were huddling together, fighting off ropes and sailcloth, spars and cargo as the lifeless objects around them continued their assaults. Some were trying to reach the rail and take their chances in the harbour but loose timbers swung from ropes, scything viciously down to fell anyone who made the attempt.

  'So, who's doing that?' Planir murmured, lips thin as he set his jaw, turning to scan the dockside and the rise that led up to the town.

  'I can't feel a thing; just how are the bastards working it?' Otrick's face was sour with frustration.

  'There.' Planir pointed and a nondescript figure half-hidden behind a stall suddenly doubled over. 'Look for someone else who's not moving, towards or away.'

  'Someone will have Casuel's blood on his hands.' Allin spoke up. 'Could you find that?'

  Otrick rubbed his hands together and scowled. 'I've got one, there by the inn.'

  A woman screamed as a man measured his length on the cobbles and nearly tripped her. She kicked him in passing, half by mistake, and continued to hurry away. Real panic was starting to run through the crowd now and the hapless man disappeared under a mass of booted feet and homespun skirts. When the press parted, he was lying like a trampled doll, cloak soiled, footprints clearly visible on it, fair hair dull with dirt and bloodied around his face.

  The chaos on the pirate ship halted abruptly; Darni emerged from a gang of sailors and ran down the gangplank, sword naked before him. He ran along the dock, arms spread, head shaking, startled fishermen falling backwards out of his path. Darni ignored them, alternately searching the crowd for anyone he could legitimately attack and glancing down into the water for any sign of those who'd fallen or jumped.

  'Darni, here!' Planir did not seem to raise his voice but the warrior evidently heard him halfway across the harbour and headed their way.

  'Where are the stuffing bastards?' he demanded, face scarlet, drenched in sweat, seemingly oblivious to the chill of the season. 'I'll have their stones for this!'

  'We'll take care of them in a while.' Planir knelt beside Casuel, concern plain on his face. 'Let me see that.'

  He loosened the dressing with careful fingers, maintaining the pressure on the wound and mindful not to touch the bone hilts of the dagger. He snatched a quick look beneath the sodden linen and then tied it on tightly again.

  'We need a surgeon and fast,' he said grimly.

  'Bespeak Hadrumal,' Darni insisted. 'Talk to someone who was working with Geris; they'd been working on healing.'

  Planir looked at Allin, who was folding another pad from strips of torn linen. 'You did well.'

  'You learn a lot when stupid men spend half a summer dying in your hedgerows,' she said unhappily, kneeling to apply the new dressing. 'How are we going to move him?'

  'Here.' Darni removed his cloak and spread it on the ground. 'We'll take a corner each and go slowly.'

  'Let me help. What's happened to Gas?'

  Casuel opened bleary eyes to see Esquire Camarl looking round Darni's shoulder, sodden hair in rats' tails, dripping water down his face.

  Casuel wanted to say something, anything, a last message, but all he could manage was a tearful whisper. 'Tell my mother I love her.'

  'Tell her yourself, I'm not a messenger-boy,' Darni said, his robust words at odds with his careful hands as he lifted Casuel on to the thick wool. 'It's a good thing this cloak's red, Cas, but you can still pay the cursed wash bill.'

  'Where's the best surgeon?' Planir demanded of Camarl.

  'Cockleshill,' the Esquire answered after a moment's thought. 'This way.'

  'Shit!' Otrick's curses halted them after a couple of awkward steps.

  Allin followed his pointing arm and saw the remaining crew from the pirate ship had gathered around the fallen foemen. Arms were raised with improvised cl
ubs and the occasional flash of a blade, boots were going in with concerted, bone-snapping determination. One gang rolled a ragged bundle to the dockside and dumped it lifeless into the scummy water lapping rubbish round the slimy wooden piles.

  'Saedrin's stones!' Planir shook his head. 'Oh well, they're just the spear-carriers, aren't they. Camarl, it's those two we want. Find something to tie them up in.' He shifted his grip on the cloak to one hand, to point with the other.

  Casuel could not stifle a low moan as he was rolled sideways.

  'Of course, I see them.' Camarl moved and Casuel heard him calling for assistance in the commanding tones of a Tormalin noble. 'You and you, those men are criminals. Hold them! You, bring me rope, fast as you can. Captain, get me a runner, I need to contact the Patron D'Olbriot!'

  'Let's get going.' Darni could not hide the concern in his voice. 'Cas is in a bad way.'

  They moved, slowly, awkwardly, taking small shuffling steps over the uneven cobbles.

  'Cheer up,' Otrick said abruptly. 'Young Cas here's finally managed something useful.'

  Casuel stared muzzily at the old wizard, blinking as he swayed between the four of them, looking up into a dizzying pattern of backs, roofs and clouds, concerned voices echoing around him, words meaningless as his wits bled out.

  'What are you talking about?' The exasperation in Planir's tone betrayed his worry.

  'You were wondering how to persuade the Council to back you, weren't you?' Otrick was starting to puff a little as they began to climb up the steep street. 'There'll be no questions now. These people have attacked a mage, and not some backstreet philtre-maker, one of our own, even if it is Casuel. When did something like that last go unpunished? Not since the Chaos, if I remember my history right!'

  Otrick's thin cheeks were scarlet with exertion as he looked down into Casuel's grey, drawn face.

  'There you go, Gas, you've done something not even the Archmage could have done. The Council will follow us across any ocean and back again now, just to make sure everyone learns they can't get away with this kind of thing. We'll have the bastards for this, don't you fret.'

  'What about the ship and the crew?' Darni asked grimly. 'We're going nowhere without them and they look in a pretty shitty state to me at the moment. What's your pal the birdman going to do about that?'

  'Shit!'

  Casuel felt himself slipping away under waves of pain and dizziness but could not shake a sense of outrage that the last thing he should hear was the Archmage swearing like a five-year mercenary.

  The Ocean Approaches, Islands of the Elietimm,

  3rd of For-Winter

  The seal-boat hurried out to sea with Shiv's magic urging it on. We bounced unnervingly over the foaming breakers as we left the shore but were soon out among the great, rolling swell of the open ocean. I looked back with relief to see the black sands and sere grasslands disappear behind us. Soon the towering summits of the grey mountains were only intermittently in sight as our fleeing boat rose and fell among the peaks and troughs of the sombre green seas. I turned away from the sight, which was threatening to make me queasy. Ryshad was managing the steering with a reassuring display of competence while Shiv knelt in the nose, all his attention questing ahead as he used every fragment of his power to get us away.

  It had to be the first time ever I was glad to find myself in a boat, which only went to prove how much I was dreading recapture. The spray from the tops of the swells was caught by the wind and we were soon all wet and chilled but none of us was about to complain. I sat behind Shiv and when the oscillating view of featureless ocean palled, which was pretty rapidly, I turned to see Aiten prodding our prisoner thoughtfully with a foot. He had been dumped unceremoniously in the bottom of the boat and, as far as I was concerned, he could stay there all the way home.

  'He's still out of the game, I take it?' I wasn't going to get anywhere near Gold-gorget if I could help it, unconscious or not.

  'Totally off the board,' Aiten said cheerfully, grinning broadly at me. 'You know, I really didn't think we were going to get out of that one, flower.'

  'Me neither.' I shook my head, which was still ringing with disbelief at our luck.

  'We're not out of it yet,' Ryshad reminded us a little sharply, a frown of concentration on his face as he guided the vessel through some turbidly coiling seas.

  'We're off those cursed islands and that's good enough for me,' Aiten said robustly and I found myself smiling too.

  'You know, Rysh, the only convincing thing I ever heard a Rationalist say was “enjoy the moment when it happens”. This one feels pretty good to me.'

  That won a reluctant smile from Ryshad and, when Shiv turned to catch what we were saying, I could see the strain was lessening in his face too.

  Whatever he was about to say was lost in a sudden gurgle from Aiten's belly.

  'Dast's teeth, I'm starving!'

  Now he'd mentioned it, I could see us all thinking the same thing. Fear fills the belly while it lasts but we'd need more than fresh air to see us across however much ocean there was in front of us.

  Shiv rubbed his hands together and the boat slowed.

  'What's the matter?' I asked, more alarm in my tone than I cared to hear.

  'I can't keep us moving, keep our friend unconscious and call for fish at the same time,' Shiv explained. 'I'm just not fit to do it all yet.'

  Ryshad frowned. 'I'd say we need to keep moving as fast as you can send us. If we tie him up,' he prodded the prisoner with a toe, 'can you just keep his mouth shut so he can't spell us?'

  Shiv nodded, his eyes brightening. 'I can put bands of air round his mouth. If I don't have to keep him down, we should be able to get on a lot quicker.'

  I reached for the braided leather tether. 'Why didn't you say so?'

  I doubled the rope, twisted a slip knot into the centre to go round his neck then used each end to tie Gold-throat's hands and feet. The more he struggled, the sooner he would strangle himself and that would end any threat he might be thinking of posing.

  Aiten whistled with admiration. 'You know a thing or two about tying beasts, don't you?'

  I tugged on an end to make sure it was fast. 'I'm a woman of many talents.'

  My cool pose was spoiled when I jumped as a fat fish dropped past me into the floor of the boat.

  'How are you at gutting?'

  I turned to see Shiv tossing another dripping offering over his shoulder.

  'Useless, since you ask, on fish at least.' I looked at the flapping thing with distaste. 'I suppose there's no way of cooking it?'

  'Fish this fresh? No need!' Aiten drew his dagger, looked approving as he tested the edge and cleaned the fish with a few deft strokes. He laid it on the seat across the middle of the boat and sliced wafer-thin mouthfuls from the meat.

  'Try it.' He offered me a piece. There was nothing for it, I folded it into my mouth and did my best to swallow without chewing. Actually, it wasn't too bad but I didn't relish the thought of raw fish and plain water all the way home.

  Aiten turned to pass some to Ryshad, who ate it without comment or expression. He saw me looking at him and laughed for the first time since we'd escaped.

  'I'd rather have some pepper sauce with it, or a decent wine, but I'm quite partial to fresh fish.'

  'They have a lot of ways of preparing it in Zyoutessela, don't they?' Shiv reached for some, without any real enthusiasm, I was glad to see.

  'Thin sliced with herb paste, soused in sour wine or citrus, rolled with pepper sauce and black salt.' Aiten looked dreamy-eyed for a moment. 'When we get back, I'll take you all to the finest fish-house on the east coast.'

  I coughed on the aftertaste of the sea. 'Can you sweeten some water for us, Shiv?'

  We all looked around in vain for something to use as a bucket.

  'There's always our boots,' Aiten said dubiously.

  'We can just use our hands,' Shiv said firmly and as we dipped handfuls from the sea he filled the water with blue light, leaving i
t free of salt and fit to drink. It was a slow process and the water tasted oddly dead and flat but I wasn't about to complain. As Ryshad leaned forward to take his turn, it occurred to me we should be sharing the steering.

  'Can I give you a break?'

  Ryshad shook his head. 'Don't get me wrong, but you've no experience with boats, have you? Ait and I'll manage between us.'

  I wasn't about to argue or take offence. Cold water and raw fish weren't sitting any too easily in my stomach so I tucked myself down to shelter as best I could from the wind and spray and carefully unfolded Gens' notes. If I could do nothing else, I could find if there was anything we could use to defend ourselves or speed up our journey.

  After what must have been most of the morning had passed, I thought I might have found something but as I looked up from the parchment, I saw Gold-throat staring intently at me as he lay uncomfortably in the belly of the boat, outrage shouting silently from his vivid green eyes. I stared back at him, throwing a challenge at him, but he did not drop his gaze.

  I looked beyond him to Ryshad, who raised an eyebrow at the intensity of my expression. I nodded at Gold-throat.

  'What do you reckon we should do with him then?' I asked casually.

  Ryshad paused for a breath and winked at me before replying in the same easy tone. 'We could cut him up for fish bait if you like, or just eat him ourselves if you fancy warm meat.'

  'What?'

  I ignored Aiten's surprised exclamation; I'd seen fear flare in those grass-coloured eyes as Gold-throat stiffened uselessly against his bonds.

  'I'd say our friend here speaks Tormalin.' I turned to Shiv. 'Can you stop up his ears as well?'

  'I should have done that earlier, shouldn't I?' Shiv bit his lip with annoyance at the uncharacteristic lapse and wove a tight band of sparkling blue around the man's helpless head. As it faded, I saw real fear in his face that anger could not drive out and I bent closer to stare into those pale eyes with all the threat I could muster. This time, he turned his gaze aside and closed his eyes.